Jack O'Lantern
by ohthelinsanity
Summary: Sarada Uchiha is fourteen when she goes blind. Luckily Sasuke and all her friends are there to help.
1. Chapter 1

Jack O'Lantern

.

.

Sarada Uchiha is fourteen when a B-rank mission goes horribly wrong.

She wakes in a haze, senses clouded by her injuries and the morphine pumping through her system. Her nose picks up the stench of antiseptic that always seems to stick to her mother and there is this _ache_ behind her eyes that makes her queasy. Her fingers curl slightly against the hospital-issued bedsheets when she remembers.

She had been tortured.

Sarada opens her eyes, but she can't see anything—there are bandages wrapped tightly around her head, wet from her own blood and in need of a change. Her other senses heighten and she heaves a ragged breath, gripping the bed rails so hard she leaves the impression of her fingers in the metal. The heartbeat monitor goes crazy and she tries to find the IV in her arm that's pumping the pain killers. _Rip it out,_ she tells herself, fumbling to find it. _The drugs will make you stupid, find Boruto and Mitsuki and get out—_

"Sarada!"

She knows that voice. "Ma?" Yet her own voice is foreign to her, rough and sand-papery and sounding like a strangled, dying breath. She finally succeeds in ripping out her IV with a muffled shout before she claws helplessly at her temples, trying to find the edge of the bandages.

"Honey, calm down!" Sakura shouts, but Sarada can't wait can't _think_ until she gets these stupid bandages off.

"They tried to take them!" Sarada screams over and over again. "They tried to take them!"

She feels Sakura trying to hold her down, put her back on the pain meds. "Boruto and Mistuki are fine! They found you and brought you home!"

 _No, not that!_ Her hands skim the edge of the bandages and she unravels them, ignoring the loud protests, the beeping monitors, and the sound of the hospital door slamming open as more nurses come running in to help.

The bandages pool in her lap and she blinks: once, twice, a dozen times.

But there is nothing but darkness.

She screams.

.

.

Sarada Uchiha is fourteen when she goes blind.

.

.

Eventually, she is forced to give a verbal report.

Sarada forces everyone to leave the room, even her mother: she wants the details of this mission on a need-to-know basis. The Hokage is sitting in her hospital room; he keeps his distance by moving the stool beside her bed towards the end of it, but he props his feet up to nudge her ankles just enough that she knows where he is—she appreciates the gesture.

Naruto is patient and strangely quiet as she gives the details of the incident: her team was on route to the ancient ruins of Whirlpool for scroll retrieval when they were attacked by a number of bandits.

"Some of them were quite skilled, but most weren't," Sarada relays, proud at how stable her own voice is. Naruto says nothing, and her pauses are filled with the _tap tap tap_ of him writing the notes on his laptop. "There were a lot of them, though."

"How many?"

"Forty, I think."

If he's surprised, she can't tell—he types the number in straight away.

"I don't remember how one of them got the slip on me—you'll have to ask Mitsuki, he probably saw—but next thing I knew, I woke up and I was by myself in some torture chamber."

The sound of the keyboard grows increasingly annoying.

"I wasn't there for long," Sarada reminds him and hopes that that'll alleviate the pity train they've most likely put her on. Several ninjas have endured days, weeks, _months_ of torture more severe than what she faced. "Maybe a few hours. They broke my hands and a few of my ribs. Put me in a jutsu so I couldn't move. But that was it."

Naruto mumbles something under his breath she can't catch, but keeps typing.

"Word travels fast," she says casually. "He knew I was the new Uchiha. He wanted my eyes."

The typing finally pauses.

She remembers everything in detail: the roundness of his face, the dryness of his shaggy brown hair, the sweat on his brow, the scar along his mouth, the scaly hands, the bad breath—all of it. She remembers every tug of her hair, every finger broken one by one over several hours. There is a lot for her to tell Naruto. But she only deems one thing pertinent to the mission.

"If I can't have them, no one can," Sarada says flatly, lacking the evil grin her captor had. "That's what he said. The rescue team you sent with Boruto and Mitsuki were coming and he knew he didn't have time to safely preserve the eyes so he grabbed a kunai," she lifts her hand and curls her fingers in the air. "and said, 'If I can't have them, no one can.'"

She clenches her hand and slashes at the air.

Silence.

Sarada shrugs. "And that's that."

 _Tap. Tap. Tap._

 _._

 _._

"You ready to go?"

"Maybe in a while. I'd kind of like to sleep a little longer."

"You've been sleeping all day, kitten. It's time to go home."

Sarada rubs at Pakkun's ears and the dog closes his eyes in contentment, buying her a few minutes time to mull her options over. Although the damage done to her eyes is irreversible, her other injuries were easily fixed and after only two days, Sarada is permitted to leave and go home.

She insists she do it alone: sure, she can't _see_ anything, but she isn't rendered completely useless. Using chakra, Sarada is still able to sense where other people are, so bumping into people isn't going to be a problem. But as her mother pointed out to her yesterday evening, buildings, metal railings and cracks in the sidewalk don't have heat and charka signatures and Sarada very well doesn't want to fall head first into a trashcan.

But she has too much pride to have her mom hold her hand and walk her all the way home. Yet the fact of the matter is her sight is gone and Sarada has to deal with it. Forget the mission. Forget the torture. Forget what once was.

Kakashi has lent her Pakkun for a few days as a sort of seeing-eye-dog. While he's small, he speaks the best so he can simply tell her "left, right" commands and tug her along (he's even agreed to a leash, but only for the walk home and never again). He already fetched her bag and put it in her lap. She doesn't have much: her tattered clothing from the mission, a spare pair of glasses and her hitai-ate.

All things she can't use anymore.

But she puts the glasses on anyway—it feels odd not having them on her face. As for the hitai-ate, Sarada knows she'll have to surrender it sooner than later. She won't be able to continue her career as a ninja. Her fingers skim the engraving of the Konoha symbol and the metal plate—she feels all the dents and scratches that she's earned in the past years and sighs.

"Kitten?"

Sarada rectifies her slumped shoulders and nods resolutely, slipping the bag on one of her shoulders. Pakkun hops of the bed and there's the clinking of the metal clasp of his dog leash with the tag on his collar as he waddles across the floor.

"Where are my shoes?" Sarada asks, placing one foot on the floor at a time.

"Ah, don't worry 'bout it, I'll get them—"

"No," Sarada cuts in with a shake of her head. "I can get them. Just tell me where they are."

Luckily, Pakkun isn't the type to argue. "Sure thing. Nurse left 'em on a chair by the door. It's about…seven steps to your right and then four steps straight ahead."

She's able to make it to the chair without tripping over anything (including herself) and puts on her shoes with no trouble either (though sandals aren't really troublesome). The door is a little bit more of a hassle—there's a lot of wall slapping before she finds the handle—but Pakkun is patient as she tries to do all these things on her own.

"Okay," Sarada sighs propping the door open and crouching down with an open hand; Pakkun puts the handle of the leash in her palm. "Lead the way."

They make it out of the hospital at a lazy stroll and it's only when she's out in the streets does Sarada get a little overwhelmed. She ends up jerking the leash a few times but Pakkun doesn't protest or give her lip. He leads her down the normal path she normally takes home, which while busier, is full of familiar sounds and smells that helps her know where she is. They get to one of Boruto's favorite ramen stands when she hears two familiar voices: Himawari and Hinata.

She freezes and Pakkun chokes on the leash again, this time asking her in a grumbled voice to be a little more careful. "I'm sorry," she rushes out. "But can we take a detour? I don't…." she bites her lip. "I can't deal with anyone right now. Please."

Pakkun sighs but takes a left, bypassing the ramen stand down the main street and slipping out of view just before she's noticed. Sarada is a bit more skittish in unfamiliar territory as they trek the long way to her home, and she's all too relieved when they make it to the front porch: that is until she realizes there's a chakra signature coming from inside.

"I told her not to take the day off," Sarada grumbles to herself as she unclips Pakkun's leash and unlocks the front door. "Oi, Ma! I told you to stay at the hospital," Sarada shouts in the entry way as she kicks of her shoes (it isn't until they're off does she realize she should have put them in a place she could easily get them).

Pakkun's nails clip clop on the hardwoods as he reminds Sarada exactly where the end tables are so she won't stub her toe. As she walks into the kitchen, she smells food, _good food,_ and gets confused since her mother is the most horrendous cook in the entire village. "See, I got home all by myself like a big girl." No response. "Ma?"

"It's Sasuke."

Her father is the last person she expected to be at home.

Although she has seen him more often in the past few years, he's still out on missions for 1-2 months at a time, and when he comes back he only stays for about a week. This is early according to his schedule.

Very unlike a ninja, Sarada jumps in surprise and almost stepping on one of Pakkun's paws in the process. "Good _God,"_ Sarada breathes, placing a hand over her chest; she concentrates on his chakra signature and commits it to memory. "I didn't think you'd be home for a few more weeks."

It's quiet save for the creaking of the kitchen chair. Sarada stands like a moron in the middle of the kitchen, not sure what she should do—her father might not know the circumstances of her mission, but due to the bandages she still has to wear on her eyes, he definitely knows something's up. But maybe, just _maybe_ she can fib her way out of this—

"Naruto told me what happened."

Or not.

She's kind of glad she can't see—the last thing Sarada wants to see is the look of disappointment on her father's face. Sarada Uchiha, sole heir to the clan and the only other ninja with the sharingan got herself captured on a stupid mission and her eyes ruined in a botched transplant.

"…Everything?" Sarada manages to squeak out, wincing in anticipation. She's still learning who her father is, and she's not sure how he will react.

"Everything," Sasuke eventually answers, though the word is softer than she expects. "So I came home. Sakura told me you wanted to walk to the house on your own, so I thought I'd meet you here. I made us some lunch, if you're hungry."

Sasuke obviously wants nothing more than to not talk about the mission and Sarada for one is more than happy to oblige. "Yeah," she smiles weakly. "Hospital food is terrible. If I didn't know any better, I'd say Ma's job at the hospital was cooking."

He gives a little huff of amusement before she hears a screech of a chair on the floor. "Far right chair on the island side, about 10 steps forward."

"Thanks," she whispers, and if it wasn't for Pakkun's heroic dive in front of her foot, she would have stubbed it on one of the table legs. Once she's seated, Sasuke dishes her a bowl of what smells like ramen.

"Ramen is all I know how to make," Sasuke admits and she feels him take a seat beside her. Ah, so it is ramen. "It's the only thing I've been taught."

Sarada smirks at the thought of her father learning to cook. She picks up her chopsticks and pokes at her food. "Did Hokage-sama teach you?"

"Yes," and she manages a soft laugh.

They eat in silence, and it's not entirely unwelcome. Her and Sasuke's relationship has been pretty quiet in the few years she's known him. The only difference this time is Sarada doesn't try to start any petty small talk and questions that will be no doubt answered with one word; mostly because she's concentrated on getting all her food in her mouth and not on the table.

She's about to get up and try and find the sink without breaking her bowl when Sasuke taps the table with his chopsticks and says. "Hold out your hand."

With the back of her hand laid flat on the table, Sasuke drops two pills into her palm. "Your pain medication."

"Thanks," she says softly, lifting her hand to her mouth and swallowing them dry. She grimaces as she gets up from the table, forgetting that she's still quite sore from all her injuries. Clutching her bowl so hard she nearly cracks it, she says, "I think I'm going to go to sleep. The walk home wore me out more than I thought it would."

There's a pause, and Sarada thinks he's forgotten she can't see him nod. "Okay," he finally says, and takes the bowl from her hands. "I'll be in the living room if you need me."

This time Sarada nods before she listens to the jangle on Pakkun's collar and follows him around the corner; she misjudges the length of the wall and walks straight into it, cursing under her breath.

She feels her father's hand on her forearm, steering her to the bottom of the stairs. "I can take it from here," she tells him but then she spends a few seconds swiping blindly in the air for the hand railing and feeling like an idiot. God, she could cry, and maybe she will if she ever makes it up to her room. But if and only then—she will not let her father see anymore of her tears, especially over something she cannot change.

"Here," Sasuke says softly, placing her hand on the railing. His hand lingers, brushing over the tops of her knuckles before he lets go.

She nods numbly, and waits for Pakkun to walk up the steps ahead of her.

When she's in the safety of her room, she curls up under her covers and takes deep breaths, counting every second in and out in hopes of shaking off the tears budding in her eyes—they'll soak her bandages and then she'll have to change them. But it's no use—she doesn't know what time of day it is, doesn't know what clothes she's wearing, and can't see anything. It's annoying, scary, but most of all _exhausting._ As she hiccups and a few tears blot the cloth of her bandages, Pakkun jumps on her bed and snuggles close to her chest, trying to calm her down.

It works; eventually, she falls asleep and dreams of the mission: she sees Boruto's horrified expression, Mitsuki's worried frown, and her captor's sneer before he slashed a kunai already dripping with her blood across her face.

But in her dreams she can _see_. And that alone makes it the best dream she's ever had.

.

.

 _a/n: This is going to be a small story about Sasuke and Sarada's father/daughter relationship. 2, maybe 3 more chapters. Other characters will make an appearance, but it'll mostly be about Sasuke trying to help Sarada adapt, and the strengthening of their bond as a result. Sasuke's kind of hard for me to write without him feeding off the other members of team 7, but I'll do my best! I hope Sarada's "Pick yourself up by the bootstraps" attitude doesn't seem unrealistic. It's not going to stick...but for now, it's how she's dealing._

 _Reviews and comments are appreciated, thank you and enjoy this sad sad fic lol._


	2. Chapter 2

Sarada wakes to the feeling of Pakkun pawing gently at one of her cheeks.

"Oi, kitten," he whispers, "Your old man's knocking on the door."

She stirs, taking a moment to get a grip on reality. Not wanting to focus on the ever-present darkness, she tunes in to her other senses: the lingering scent of lavender incense that she keeps in her room mixed with the scent of Pakkun's fur (Kakashi must have given him a bath before lending him to her). Her bedsheets are soft with the new fabric softener they've been using in the laundry for the past month and then there's the quiet rapping on her bedroom door.

"Yeah?" she croaks, voice a little raw from sleep.

"It's Sasuke," he calls back. "I need to change your bandages."

She reaches up and touches them tentatively and notices that they are a little gross. "Sure, come in."

Her door doesn't creak anymore since she finished it last summer, but Sasuke almost seems to take heavier steps, scooting her desk chair over to the right side of her bed. "Hold this," he says softly, and puts a roll of bandages in her lap as he begins the slow process of unraveling the bandages on her face.

"Where's Ma?" Sarada asks quietly.

He is slow and careful, taking extra time due to only having one arm. "She had an emergency surgery at the hospital. She got called in about an hour ago."

Sakura came home already? "Wait, what time is it?"

"Almost midnight. She was going to come in and change them for you before she went to bed."

She nods as the last of the bandages are peeled away, leaving the air to cool her eyes; it feels nice. Sarada isn't quite sure how Sasuke's going to wrap the bandages around her face with only one arm and figures his hesitancy is him trying to figure it out. But then she hears the distinct click of her beside lamp being turned on followed by a sharp breath from Sasuke.

It never occurs to her how terrifying her eyes might look now. Now that she's blind, she has reimagined her image as more or less the same, but with the milky white centers like the elders have with their cataracts. But this isn't like that—her eyes were violently ruined, slashed and cut with an unclean kunai.

She closes her eyes to spare her father the horror but then they snap open in surprise as she feels his hand, rough and calloused, pressing to her cheek. "Don't," he says softly. "I need to take a look."

"Are they infected?" Sarada winces when Sasuke cups her chin and tilts her head left and right.

"No, they're not."

"But still not pretty, huh?"

Maybe it's not her best tactic. Cute comments and sarcastic humor did wonders on her team, but Sakura never really found it funny—not when it concerned her wellbeing—and Sasuke doesn't really have a funny bone in his body; at least none that she's seen.

As predicted, he doesn't say _anything,_ so Sarada drops the front all together. "Tell me what they look like."

There's some shuffling and then she feels his hand starting to bandage her head up again; she slaps his hand away.

"No, tell me," she makes her voice more forceful. "Tell me what they look like."

He sighs. "Sarada—"

 _"_ _Please."_

His thumb brushes away a tear she doesn't even realize she sheds—it's stupid that her eyes that don't even work can still do something as useless as cry. "It's not so bad," he whispers, and Sarada doesn't know if she can ever get used to her father sounding so _soft._ "The whites are a little pink and I can see the stitches."

"…Stitches?"

"Sakura did her best to, uh," he coughs awkwardly, "Fix the disfiguration."

All of a sudden, she doesn't want any more details. "Go it," she mumbles, hands clawing nervously at the sheets. "Sorry if it's hard to look at."

Sasuke doesn't respond. Instead, he grabs the bandages and taps her temple with his index finger. "What's _hard,_ is trying to bandage my daughter's head with one hand. Hold it right here," he tells her, tapping the spot on her head again.

Sarada helps him start on the wrap and after a few times he's able to finish it for himself. "All done," he says, scooping the old bandages out of her lap. "Hand."

Again, she holds her palm out and he puts more pills in her hands, but they don't feel like the same ones he gave her last time. "….These are different, what are they?"

"Sleeping pills," Sasuke puts simply. "Your mom said you refused them at the hospital."

"I've been sleeping fine," Sarada shrugs. "I don't need them."

Sasuke sighs, something she can barely catch, before he gives her wrist a little tap. "It'll help with the nightmares."

"I'm not having night—"

"I heard you whimpering."

 _Damn it._ Embarrassed, Sarada turns up her head and tilts her head to the side. There's no way she can admit that she prefers the nightmares over a dreamless sleep simply because she can see in them. How absolutely fucked up is that? Deciding she isn't going to win tonight, not against Sasuke, Sarada takes the pills, and lays back down, facing away from Sasuke.

She feels him move and put the chair away, but not before he leans down and presses a kiss to her hair. "Goodnight, Sarada."

Her sleep is dreamless.

.

.

When she wakes again, it's to the scent of pancakes.

Not just any pancakes—Sarada's positive it's blueberry pancakes. Sasuke's makes them quite a few times when he's home on the weekends. Pakkun isn't in her room, but it's not like she can rely on him forever, so she tiptoes careful steps out of her room and down the hallway. Although not the most dignified way of getting down the stairs, Sarada decided it'll be best to just sit on the steps and scoot her butt down each one until she gets to the bottom. She makes it down one stair when she stops, listening to the voices drifting in from the kitchen.

"I guess you got her to take the sleeping pills?" Sakura asks—her voice is kind of loud—they must think she's still asleep.

"Ah," her father answers. She hears the hiss of the skillet as he pours more batter. "She didn't put up much of a fuss."

"She must have been really tired…..Sasuke?"

"Hm?"

"What is she going to _do?"_

Sarada has thought about this ever since she woke up in the hospital. It plagues her every conscious thought as she takes blind step after blind step, trying to feel her way to somewhere as simple as her bathroom. What _can_ she do? She can't be a ninja—that's off the table. What does one become when they only life they've ever known gets swept out from underneath them?

"Whatever she wants to do."

Her father's voice pulls her back, surprising her. She listens intently, leaning her head against the wall underneath the railing.

"She'll figure it out," Sasuke continues. "Give her some time."

Somehow, his words still aren't very assuring.

Deciding she probably can't get away with hiding her presence much longer, Sarada starts scooting herself down each step. Pakkun comes thumping down the stairs beside her, trying and failing to hide his amused snicker at what is surely a silly sight. "Shut up," she grumbles.

"Sarada."

Sasuke's voice scares her again and she jumps a little when she realizes he has climbed halfway up the stairs to meet her. He reaches down and grabs her hand. "Come on, I'll help you."

She lets him guide her down the stairs and all the way to the kitchen, even letting him pull out her chair so she can sit beside her mother.

"Good morning, honey," Sakura says, leaning in to press a kiss to her cheek. Her hands linger to inspect the bandages that were changed last night. "It seems your dad did a good job after all."

"You didn't think he would?"

"Not with one hand—hey!" Sakura laughs suddenly; Sarada assumes Sasuke pinched her or something.

Breakfast starts as it normally does when Sasuke is home—in silence. Again, it's not always uncomfortable or unwanted. Sakura usually chimes in halfway through with some hospital anecdote but today, in a change of pace, Sasuke asks, "Sakura, how's your research at the hospital going?"

"Oh!" Her mother answers, sounding surprised. "Good! I've almost got a virtually universal anecdote for poison locked down. It'll save medics a lot of trouble in the future if I get it."

"I'm sure you'll get it done in no time," Sasuke says flatly.

"Duh," her mother snickers.

Sarada things that might be the end of Sasuke's talking quota, but he keeps going. "Sarada, what do you plan on doing today?"

Now she _really_ wishes she can see because than she can tell who replaced her father with this chatty Kathy. "Um," she drawls, a bit thrown, "Well I'd _like_ to go back to bed." She shoves a mouthful of pancakes in her mouth to soften the blow of what she's about to say next. "But I have to go Hokage-sama's office and get my headband deactivated."

Ah, there's the silence.

"I'm sorry, Sarada," Sakura finally says, laying a hand on her wrist—it feels like she has a little syrup on one of her fingers. "Do you—"

"I'll walk you there," Sasuke cuts in, voice calm. "If you'd like."

"No, no," Sarada shakes her head. "I'll just take Pakkun."

"You sure?" Sakura hesitates. "Your dad has stuff to talk about with Naruto, it's no trouble."

The last thing she wants is Sasuke to watch Naruto take the seal off her headband. "I'd really like to do this by myself. Please."

Sakura and Sasuke probably have one of those silent conversations where they just look at each other before Sakura finally concedes. "Okay. Just be careful. Pakkun," Her voice gets a little muffled, and Pakkun shifts at her feet, which means her mom is feeding him pancakes as a bribe, "you come find me if something goes wrong."

She can't help it. "Like if I fall face first into a trashcan?"

Sakura huffs, flicking her daughter fondly on the forehead. "Such _lip._ Yes, baby girl. Like if you fall first into a trashcan."

"I'll do my best, but no promises," she gruffs out, stuffing one last bite of pancakes in her mouth—she leaves her plate just half clear. "I'm just going to head on over there before his schedule gets swamped in the afternoon."

"Sarada…" and Sakura's voice is strangely…..pitying.

"What?"

"It's already one in the afternoon," Sasuke finishes. "This was brunch."

"Oh," she mumbles, feeling a little embarrassed. No sunlight to wake her up in the morning. "Sorry for sleeping so late. Maybe you can set an alarm on my phone for me."

"You're _recovering_." Sakura says in her doctor's voice. "You're allowed a few lazy days."

"But we'll set your phone up for you," Sasuke tacks on before he taps the table. "Hand."

Sighing and already realizing this is more or less going to be a _thing_ for the next few days, Sarada hold out her palm and Sasuke gives her a pill. A lower dose, just like she had requested at the hospital. The last thing she needs on top of all this is getting addicted to pain medication. "Thanks, Papa," and she whistles for Pakkun to go get her phone while she stumbles to the foyer and tries to find her shoes.

"Oh, by the way," Sakura calls to her as she's just about to leave, "Boruto called. I told him you were still resting, but…"

"Shit," Sarada swears, suddenly wishing she was still asleep. There is a knock on the front door and the person masking their chakra signature makes their presence known just before she rips the door open.

"Good afternoon, Sarada-chan~"

Sarada slumps against the door frame.

"…and he didn't really take no for an answer," Sakura finishes sheepishly.

"So!" Boruto chirps, and she doesn't need eyes to know he's got that stupid grin on his face. "Your mom mentioned something about an escort. Do you want to sit on my shoulders or should I just piggy-back you to Hokage tower?"

She really hopes Sasuke gave her a sleeping pill by mistake.

.

.

When they get to the Hokage's office, Mitsuki is _coincidentally_ there as well, citing that he needs to get some paperwork processed: it's bullshit. Her teammates are checking up on her and won't allow her to wallow in her bedroom by herself because they're _nice_ and they _care._

Okay, she knows it's a good thing that they're those things, but today might be one of the tougher days she's ever going to have and she can't begin to explain just how much she wants to be _alone_ for this.

Sarada manages to push the two boys out of the Hokage office long enough for her to sign the resignation forms and get off the roster. They might insist on walking her back home and coddling her with dango from a food stand, but this is where she draws the line.

"Just sign here," Naruto tells her before she hears Shikamaru give an exasperated sigh from his desk in the corner of his office. "Shit, I mean—give me your hand," and Sarada allows Naruto to guide her hand to the correct part of the paper so she can sign her name. If she misses the line entirely, he doesn't say anything, but she has a feeling she does.

Once all the paperwork is signed, she does the hard part. She fishes through her bag and pulls out her headband. "Here." She says softly, pushing it across the desk. Papers ruffle and she winces, hoping she didn't crinkle anything important. "Hokage-sama?"

"Yes?"

"I know you have to deactivate the seal," all the headbands have seals that are used to track and identify all ninjas on active duty, "But…can I still keep the headband?"

"Of course!" Naruto shouts hurriedly. She hears him perform the hand seals as he deactivates the seal and then takes a knife to scratch out the code on the back. "Of course you can, sweetheart. You earned it and you've done nothing to have it confiscated. It's yours to keep."

"Thanks."

The Hokage has a funny way of smiling that she can almost _hear_ his lips stretching wide, he smiles that big. "Want to wear it? I can tie it over your bandages. You'd just like Kakashi-sensei, hehe."

Sarada pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose. "Ah, I don't think there's any use in playing pretend, but I appreciate the thought."

"Sarada." Naruto's voice is suddenly firm. "It's not playing pretend. You might not be on active duty, but that doesn't mean you aren't a ninja. Just think of Gai-sensei! He can't take anymore missions either, but he's still a ninja. Once a ninja, always a ninja. You have made a sacrifice for your village and you will always be honored for it."

She understands what he's saying, but his words don't alleviate the sadness she feels in her heart. She is losing her career, her lifestyle, a part of who she is. Her dreams of taking Naruto's place and becoming Hokage are down the drain as well. ""Thank you, Hokage-sama," she says softly, taking the headband. If she just shoves it in her bag, he might give her another speech, so Sarada takes to tying it around her arm instead.

"Uh, Sarada-chan…?"

"Naruto," Shikamaru calls from across the room. "Maybe you should just leave it." But Sarada is smart enough to realize she's probably put the headband on face down. She'll fix it before she leaves the tower.

"Fine, fine," the Hokage waves Shikamaru's warning away. "So! What are you going to do now?"

"Hah?"

She hears his chair creek and the soft thud of his sandals as he puts his feet on his desk. "Maybe you can get a job at the flower shop, yeah? You can arrange the flowers!"

Sarada feels the need to point out, "I can't see…"

"You can do it by smell! All flowers smell different, right?"

"That would still be pretty tough, Hokage-sama…"

"Maybe you're right….hey! The ramen stand! Making ramen is easy! I even taught your dad."

"Err….maybe…." Just her luck she'd probably knock over a pot of boiling water and add third degree burns to her injuries.

"Okay, okay, let's see…I know Kakashi's always hiring someone to wash his dogs?"

"Naruto," Shikamaru cuts in again, this time with a sigh. "You've got a team reporting in about 5 minutes." Thank God for Shikamaru.

"Oh, right…don't worry, we'll brainstorm another time!" Naruto promises her.

There's a knocking on the door before Boruto shouts, "Oi, how long does it take to deactivate a seal?" Of course he's been standing outside the door this whole time. "Our team has places to be and dango to eat!"

"That brat," Naruto says fondly. "Sarada-chan hold out your hand please!" and she does as he asks, letting him tuck a small wad of ryo in her hand, along with an envelope. "It's your paycheck for the last mission, as well as some money for the dango."

"Oooh, dad's treat!?" Boruto cries from outside again. "Thanks, old man!"

"Yes, thank you, Hokage-sama," Sarada thanks as well.

"Oh, none of that!" Naruto cries. "I'm not your boss anymore, you don't have to call me that!"

"With all due respect, sir," Sarada drawls, confused; she hopes this isn't some pity gesture from the last mission. "You still are the leader of the village."

"Yeah, but now I'm first and foremost your uncle." She's never gotten the whole brother thing he claims to have with Sasuke. "Call me Uncle Naruto!"

Her mouth goes slack. "I, um…I'll think about it Naruto-sensei," she hopes meeting him halfway will tie him over for the day.

Boruto's patience weighs thin and he bursts through the door. "Okay, times up. My stomach's about to start eating itself." He grabs her without warning and she squeaks as she's dragged out of the Hokage's office. "Bye dad! Have fun at your boring-ass job!"

He keeps pulling her until they're down the hall to catch up with Mitsuki; Boruto lets go of her with a little too much propulsion and she collides with Mitskui, almost falling to the ground. "Geez," Mistuki sighs dramatically, "Can't you watch where you're going?" he teases.

It's such low-hanging fruit that Sarada can't help but grin—it doesn't, however, stop her from trying to slap him. He catches her hand and then tugs at her hitai-ate tied on her arm. "I guess not, considering this is on backwards."

It's only when she tries hitting him and missing does she join Boruto in laughing until she nearly cries.

.

.

a/n: I've never seen the boruto movie or anything, so I don't know how her teammates act, so I just...made my best guess. I hope it's not too off putting. Thanks for those who reviewed, I appreciate it! But just a note: if you're going to leave a review please leave it for something about this story. All reviews concerning works for updates on other fics or requests for fics in entirely different fandoms altogether will be ignored and/or deleted. Thanks, guys, and enjoy.


	3. Chapter 3

_"_ _So you see," he leers, tossing the miniature saw from hand to hand. "It'll be easy." He walks over to where she's bound and gets in her face, his breath rank and tinted with poison. "I'll just scoop 'em out, with this. Nothin' to it."_

 _When he smiles, she sees blood in his teeth._

 _"_ _Like carving a pumpkin."_

"SARADA."

She gasps like she's just broken the surface and clutches at whatever she can. One hand grabs at the sheets beneath her and the other rips the hand that's gripping her by the shoulder. "Get off me!" Sarada screams, shoving and kicking at what she can't see. Where is she? Why can't she remember? "I have to," she gasps again, throwing the bed sheets off and trying to leave. An arm wraps around her waist and pushes her back down on the mattress. "I said get off!" She screams.

"Sarada! listen to me: It's Papa!"

What? That doesn't make sense! "Boruto! Mitsuki! Run!"

"It was just a dream!"

His voice is like a switch—she remembers everything suddenly. The mission, the torture, her blindness. "Shit," she swears, softly, and the adrenaline stops pumping to leave her trembling in her skin. "Shit, shit, _shit!"_

"Sarada, you're safe."

God, her head hurts. She clutches at the sides of her head and whimpers before her mouth slowly unhinges in a silent, hollowed scream as she draws her knees to her chest. "My eyes…"

"I know."

"Papa," she cries, reaching blindly for him—he holds her hand. "They took my eyes."

"I know."

"I'm sorry." She sobs. "I failed."

She feels her father pick her up and cradle her to his chest, rocking her back and forth. His one hand smooths over her hair. "You didn't fail."

Then why does it _feel_ like she has? "I can't be a ninja. I can't make you proud."

It's quiet for a long time, but he keeps rocking her back and forth and smoothing her hair. "You made me proud a long time ago," he finally tells her. "We have enough ninjas. The world is safer." He pokes her forehead. "You can be whatever you want to be."

She thinks back to what Naruto said to her in his office. "Even if it's a ramen chef?"

To his credit, Sasuke doesn't miss a beat. "Even if it's a ramen chef. Your life doesn't have to be fighting and violence and war anymore. You've done your part, Sarada."

She feels calmer as sleep starts to return.

"Live in peace."

.

.

She wakes up hours later to discover she'd been using her father's chest as a pillow.

After willing herself to _not_ to scream bloody murder in the shock of it all, Sarada is able to remember that she had fallen asleep with her father hushing her back to sleep—she cringes at the thought. How embarrassing can she get? Waking up crying from a scary dream and having to sleep with Mommy or Daddy? What is she, five?

Not wanting to think about it, she attempts a gentle wake up in call in the form of a small pat to his cheek; instead, Sarada misses his cheek entirely and she accidentally shoves one of her fingers up his nostril. Sasuke makes this _ridiculous_ snore she knows will never likely be repeated before she feels him stir.

"Morning," he mumbles wearily, taking the hand that was resting on her back to pat the top of her head.

"Sorry," she mumbles sheepishly. "I didn't mean to fall asleep on you."

He stirs again, moving his arm so Sarada can sit up. "It's," _pop,_ "Fine." _Pop_. "Don't mention it."

She frowns. "Was that your neck?"

 _Pop._ "Yeah. I'll have Sakura fix it. Sarada?"

She hums absently in acknowledgement as she carefully feels her way off the bed—it's getting a lot easier. But Sasuke's air of hesitancy makes her feel slightly nervous.

"Did Naruto offer you psychiatric services?"

Her father continues to surprise her; he is the last person she'd expect to press this matter.

The psychiatric services provided to ninjas got a major re-haul and upgrade under Kakashi's reign. They became much more widely available, particularly in instances of ANBU and other high ranking ninja that had to participate in high-risk missions.

Torture victims, as she is horrified to recall, are often sanctioned mandatory sessions.

"I turned in my headband," Sarada coughs, smoothing her shirt out of nervous habit. "There's no need, seeing as I don't need to be cleared for the next mission."

"That's not the real reason they're offered."

Shit, doesn't he think she already _knows_ that? Would it be too difficult to just accept her deflection and be done with it? "Look," Sarada sighs, "I don't want to talk to anyone about….about any of it."

"May I ask why?"

Her lips curl in a snarl. "Isn't it obvious? What good is it to just relive it over and over again? How does that help? Will it give me sight back? No!" She bangs her fist against the wall—not hard enough to crack it, but enough to get her point across. "I have to move on. Dwelling on it is absolutely pointless. I have to forget about it."

"Pumpkin."

Her snarl drops and the rest of her rant pretty much dies in her throat. "I…what did you call me?" Sasuke doesn't really _do_ pet names…like… _ever._

"Pumpkin," he repeats. "You kept mumbling that word in your sleep."

Instantly her captor's face flashes in the forefront of her mind; she tries to keep a straight face. "It's nothing," she mumbles dejectedly, "Just forget it."

It's a quiet for a few passing beats and Sarada thinks he's finally going the _ignore my problems and deal with it another time_ route she's been riding on for quite some time but then he says, "I go to therapy."

"Papa," she rolls her sightless eyes underneath the bandages, "I don't want to go—wait, what?"

"I go to therapy," Sasuke repeats. "Every time I come home."

Sarada doesn't believe it. Her father seems like the last person who would willingly go to a therapist which means, "Did Kakashi-sama make you go?"

"He did," he admits, "But it was only mandatory for a year. I keep going."

Nope, she doesn't buy it. "Why?"

"Because it helps."

It takes every shred of her patience not to outright scoff at his words. Yet, she lends him her ear. "…How?"

She imagines him shrugging. "In ways I haven't quite grasped."

"That's not a helpful answer."

He reconsiders. "I suppose different people get different things from it. You won't know until you try."

She reaches up to pinch at the bridge of her nose, feeling a headache coming on. Maybe today she'll indulge in an extra pain pill. It's turning out to be a stressful morning. "Papa," and although her voice is meant to be stern, it completely fails. Her words sound meek. "I don't want to. Can't that answer be enough?"

Sasuke sighs and she hears the bed creak with the absence of his weight before his hand is on her head. He ruffles her hair before he reaches down and tugs gently at one of her ear lobes. "For now, it is. Just keep it in your thoughts."

Good enough a compromise as she can get. "Okay," she sighs. "I will."

"Thank you," Sasuke says in a way that kind of tugs at Sarada's heart strings. "Now, hurry up and get ready. Chocho called last night—"

"God _damn_ it." There goes her restful day and he knows it.

"— _and,"_ She hears her father smirking. "She's taking you out for lunch. Said something about a surprise."

"You do realize," Sarada calls over her shoulder, proudly making it to the bathroom without a mishap to brush her teeth. "I'm going to end up in like, Earth Country, right?"

"Is that so? Send me a post card."

She throws him her middle finger.

.

.

Chocho ends up dragging her through the shopping districts to one of their favorite restaurants to join the rest of their friends: Shikadai, Inojin, Lee, Mitsuki, Boruto and even Himawari tags along as well. Sarada has never been a fan of huge group meals but she hasn't seen most of her friends since she returned from her mission, so she puts on her best smile and waves.

"Sarada-chan!" Himawari squeaks, nearly knocking the breath of Sarada as she collides into her for a monster bear hug. "It's nice to see you."

"Hey, Hima," Sarada squeaks, but hugs her back. "I wish I could say the same."

Himawari lets go immediately, probably wearing a face of shame while her brother howls with laughter. "Aw, no, come on Hima!" He says after a few moments. Definitely pouting, it seems. "Look, she's smiling! She was just kidding."

"Sorry, I couldn't resist," Sarada smiles holding out her hand, palm up. She waits patiently before Himawari tentatively grabs her hand in gives it a small squeeze.

They all take their seats at one of the larger booths the restaurant has as a waitress comes by Chocho startles her when she throws her arm around her shoulder and jostles her to her side. "So what'll it be, girl? Get whatever you want, it's on me."

She doesn't hesitate. "I'll have a large strawberry milkshake. With an obscene amount of fries. Please." Chocho laughs and pops her fist against her shoulder. "It's not like I have to worry about dieting anymore, right?"

As the rest of them order, Sarada practices on memorizing the chakra signatures of her friends more definitively. From an early age she was able to detect them, but she never found much of a need to associate them to personal identities. But now that it is the only "vision" that she has, she finds the difference to be quite astounding. Chakra ebbs and flows at about the same rate, but some are still faster than others. She can instantly tell who has the least (Lee and Inojin) and who has the most (Boruto and Himawari). Shikadai probably has the most even spread throughout his whole body and Chocho's is a little chaotic, the most of it pooling at the core of her body.

"Okay, Sarada, are you ready for your surprise?"

She blinks behind her bandages and pulls her mind out of her stupor. "Hmm? Don't you want to wait until we finish eating?"

"I can't wait! It's too cool!" Lee shouts. "C'mon Shikadai, show her."

She hears Shikadai sigh before there's a light clunking on the table. "This is from Shino-sensei."

 _Shino Sensei?"_ Sarada holds out her hands and Shikadai but something cold—metal—in her palms. Running her fingers over the sides, she feels small bumps and grooves, but aside from that she has a pretty good idea that this is, "Are these….are these Shino-sensei's glasses?"

"I wouldn't call those glasses," Shikadai drawls. "But yes. It's just like the pair he wears. He heard what happened and dropped them off at my compound for us to give to you. He thought you might get some use out of them."

"Even if your eyes aren't operative," Inojin chimes in, "It's important to protect them from UV lights to prevent further damage. And I assume you don't want to wear those bandages forever."

She hasn't really thought about it much. After her father gave her a crude description of her eyes, she kind of assumed they'd just be hidden from view for the rest of her life—trade in her regular glasses for sunglasses. "This seems excessive," she voices aloud. Though she must admit the whole contraption is much lighter than she thought it would be; it's made of titanium.

"Um, so?" Boruto scoffs. "It looks mega cool. Especially after me and Chocho bedazzled it."

Shikadai sighs. "You bedazzled something _phallic_."

"Yes. Yes, I did." He sounds awfully proud. She tries running her fingers along the side to find the shape of a penis.

"What does phallic mean?" Himawari asks.

"It means your brother's a moron," Mitsuki finishes and Boruto squawks in protest. "Don't worry, Sarada, Inojin turned it into a flower."

"Try it on!" Lee encourages. She starts to put it on over her bandages when one of Mitsuki's hands extends and reaches to untie the bandages.

"No!" she shouts a little too quickly, and the whole table freezes when she grabs for Mitsuki's hand. "I mean, it's probably gross—"

"I'm looking at Mitsuki extending his arm across the table," Chocho tells her. "What's grosser than that?"

As much as she doesn't want to show them, they can't possibly be _that_ bad, unless her father is a horrible no good dirty liar. Plus, it's unlikely she can them hide forever. Nodding, she lets go of his hand and allows him to unravel the bandages.

No one says anything.

"See, I told you it was gross," she grouses, crossing her arms and sinking into her place in the booth.

Boruto speaks up first. "No, it's not that," he whispers. "It's just…"

"It looks like it _hurt,"_ Chocho finishes, sounding a lot more timid than she normally does. "I mean, I knew that it did, but when your mom said _clear through_ I guess I didn't quite get it. Now I know why she said not even new eyes could fix the damage."

"Cho, come on," Shikadai barks. "Don't be crass."

"Clear through?" Sarada echoes, sitting back up. "What do you mean?"

"Didn't she tell you?" Mitsuki asks. She shrugs, not really knowing what they're getting to in the first place. "Sakura said—"

"Mitsuki—"

"No, tell me," Sarada barks. "I didn't hear about this. Just tell me."

He hesitates, but eventually concedes. "Sakura-san described your injuries as less of a slashing and more of a…."

"A what?"

"…carving."

The color drains from her face just as the waitress returns with their orders. "Okay, I got one strawberry milkshake and an obscene amount of fries—"

The thought of food, along with everything else in her life, is suddenly _sickening._ Hand clamped over her mouth, Sarada silently thanks that she was on the outside of the booth and scoots out, hoping and praying she can find the goddamn door before she—

"Come on, I got you," Boruto whispers as he's suddenly beside her, dragging her past the tables to the exit. The cool air of oncoming autumn brushes against her cheeks before Boruto mpractically shoves her head downward and she figures it's safe to hurl. There isn't much in her stomach, just the crackers she had before she left and water she'd been sipping on at the table. She's too miserable to care if anyone can see her.

Boruto rubs her back and holds her hair up, well-acquainted with the situation. Sarada had a nasty habit of overdoing it on the soldier pills, which often leads to nausea like this.

"Let's sit," he tells her when she's finishes. He guides her to a bench before he takes a place beside her, encouraging her to rest her head on his shoulder; she allows it.

"Sorry," she apologizes. "Pain medication makes me sick sometimes," she lies.

"That's okay." He knows she's lying. "I needed the fresh air anyway."

She appreciates the lie, she really does, but she doesn't want his pity. Not right now. "Bo?"

"Yeah?"

"….did you really bedazzle a penis on those goggles?"

He snickers and she reaches up to pinch him. "Oh, come on!" he protests. "You have to admit, it's quite funny."

She rolls her eyes. "Only you would think that."

"Chocho thought it was funny too."

Sarada groans. "I'm not surprised."

"Megane-chan?"

She blinks at the new voice and looks up to her right, hoping she meets his eyes. "Inojin?"

He leans down in front of her and rests a hand on her knee to let her know that he's there before he grabs both her hands and wraps them around her gift. "You feel better?"

"Yes," she smiles, and she finds she isn't lying. "I think I can down that milkshake, now."

"I think Chocho's already put a small dent in it," Inojin quips, and it makes her smile. "But before you go inside, I have another gift for you. Something I made."

"Inojin," she says flatly. "I can't _see_ any more of your drawings, remember?"

"I do more than just draw." He taps her knee again, only this time it isn't his hand. "Take it."

She does, running her hands along the surface. She figures it out almost instantly. "A cane?"

"I carved it myself." He picks up her hand and drags it along the bottom. "I carved your name, here on this side. And over here," he moves their hands up, "It says _move your ass._ Feel it? _"_

It has Sarada laughing. "Yes, I do."

"But unfortunately, _here,"_ and he moves their hands to the underneath side of the handle, "I couldn't quite keep Boruto away."

"It's a penis," Boruto tells her. Her fingers trace the surface. He's not lying.

Sarada can't find it in herself to mind. Not one bit. She cracks a grin and bumps shoulders with her teammate before she reaches out and gives Inojin's hand a squeeze. "Thank you."

"I figured you could you use it to get back inside. Plus," his voice pitches up a bit, "It's a good whacking stick for when Boruto and Mitsuki get on your nerves."

She lets Boruto help her off the bench before she clutches the cane in her right hand, the goggles in her left. "That's what my fists are for."

"I _know,"_ Boruto grumbles, taking the goggles from her hand and putting them over her eyes. "God. You look so _weird."_

"Do I look cooler than Shino-sensei?"

"Um, doesn't _everyone?"_

"You certainly don't," Sarada teases, and Inojin shares her snicker of laughter as Boruto protests and they all head back inside.


	4. Chapter 4

Sleeping quickly becomes her favorite hobby.

Sarada _knows_ there's much more she can be doing with her time, even if she is blind as a bat, but she can't bring herself to do anything about it. Her memories don't know that her eyes were gauged out of their sockets so when she sleeps, she _dreams._ In her sleep, she can _see._ For her, sleeping and napping is more of a reality than being awake.

They aren't all bad: the nightmares have waned _somewhat,_ and she gets the occasional mundane dream of her making breakfast or running laps. Well, Sarada used to think that things like that were mundane but now it's like a Christmas present every time she has a short dream of grocery shopping with her mom.

But unfortunately, the nightmares are still frequent. Frequent enough for someone to do something about it.

Sarada puts her foot down when it comes to the sleeping pills, no matter how much Sakura begs: she will not give up her only chance to see. She's slowly being waned off the pain medication, which makes her sleeping even _more_ nightmarish, so much that Sarada actually feels bad for waking up her parents almost every night for a week.

That's when Boruto shows up.

"Hey," he whispers, which for Boruto is just a somewhat normal inside voice.

If she hadn't felt his chakra signature climb up the siding of her house, he might have scared the living shit out of her when he just hopped through her bedroom window. It's like he's _trying_ to scare the blind girl to death. "What are you doing here?" she hisses. Her phone rings every hour to tell her the time, and she knows it's recently past 11 at night.

"Sleepover, duh," he snorts, and his overnight bag hits the hardwood with a soft thud. "Scoot over!" and he plops down on her bed. "Ooh, this is nice. You know, I only have a twin back home."

"Then maybe you should _go_ home," Sarada suggests, splaying her fingers across his face and giving him a good shove.

"Don't be silly," he scoffs, settling back on the bed. "I had training with Sasuke this morning," he says softly, voice dropping to a proper whisper. "He mentioned you haven't been sleeping all that well."

Her heart sinks to her stomach as she's reminded that her sleeping problems don't just affect her: her parents must be tired from waking them up all the time. "Yeah, well, I don't think you sleeping in my bed is the solution he had in mind."

"Eh, what's the big deal?" and she can practically hear him shrug. "We've shared sleeping bags smaller than this." Ugh, she will _never_ get over that mission to Grass. She almost killed Konohamaru-sensei for that mission. "Besides, we all know I'm the _perfect_ picture of innocence." He grabs her hand and puts her fingers on his mouth. "I want you to know that I'm grinning."

"I already had my suspicions," and despite herself, she laughs. The sound makes her feel warm, and she suddenly can't imagine letting him leave. "Okay, you can stay," she concedes.

"Awesome. Let's get your pillow all fluffed up."

As Sakura once told her, Naruto is the worst sleeper: he snores, tosses and turns, and spreads his arms and legs so far out that she's claimed to have woken up with his big toe in her mouth more than once on missions. Boruto is nothing like that: he's a bit of a creepy sleeper in that he lies almost perfectly on his back, rarely ever moving. Himawari calls him a vampire.

Boruto lies down on the bed, keeping well to his side, and gives a content sigh. Sarada wiggles under the comforter and takes to lying on her side, her back to her teammate. Her eyes flutter shut and she's about to pray she falls asleep soon when she feels Boruto grab her hand.

"I'll chase the bad guys away this time, Sarada," he whispers tiredly, and tugs on her arm a little more, forcing her to roll back over on her back like him. "I got you…" he gives the back of her hand a quick kiss before he lays their hands back down between them.

She squeezes his hand back in silent thanks.

That night, she has another grocery shopping dream.

.

.

"Sarada. Sarada, I smell pancakes. Wake up."

She opens her eyes slowly and hears birds chirping—morning. Second, she definitely smells pancakes; probably blueberry again. Third, she notices that her pillow is not quite as soft as she remembers. She tilts her head up a bit and her mouth brushes against what ends up being the bottom of Boruto's jaw.

"Morning, Salad," he teases, and her pillow rumbles. Oh, _God._ She's been using him as a pillow.

"Sorry," she apologizes, immediately trying to roll off him, but he just laughs before throwing an arm around her and giving her bed-head a good noogie.

"You need to brush your teeth," he says simply and she hits him, satisfied when he coughs.

"Same with you!"

"After I eat pancakes."

"After you eat…?" she trails off before she realizes he wants to stay for breakfast. "No!" she hisses. "You have to leave. What if my mom catches you here?"

"So?"

Sarada tries another tactic. "What if _Sasuke_ catches you here?"

"Double so?"

"Bo!"

"Awww, come on!" he whines, dropping his head to her shoulder. "No one at my house ever makes pancakes. Please?"

She thinks about what kind of pancakes are downstairs. "You're allergic to blueberries."

He lifts his head. "Your mom can pull my hive-ridden face out of the grave."

God, he really wants these pancakes. "Boruto, you're forgetting you aren't even supposed to be here—"

"Good morning, Sarada."

She instinctively flinches at the sound of her father's voice; she hadn't even heard him open the door. Come to think of it, she doesn't even remember closing it last night. "Morning," she mumbles.

"Hey Sasuke!" Boruto chirps, not giving a damn in the world.

"Boruto," he acknowledges with what's probably a nod. "Breakfast is ready. I made a few pancakes without the blueberries, if you'd like to stay."

Of course her father knew Boruto was here the entire time, she can't believe she even thought differently. Her mother probably knows as well. But much to Sarada's surprise, Boruto declines his offer even after all his whining. "I'd love to, but I promised to take Himawari to her favorite pastry café for breakfast, so I better get my butt back home." He gives Sarada a quick hug. "I'll see you later."

"Don't forget we have a training session at dusk," Sasuke says blandly as Sarada hears Boruto grab his things.

"I'd never! Enjoy your breakfast," and he's out her window in a flash.

That just leaves Sarada and Sasuke. She figures the best plan of action is to just apologize as fast as she can. "Papa, I'm sorry I didn't tell you he was spending the night."

"I don't care. Your teammates are a comfort. You didn't wake up screaming. He can stay whenever."

Sarada is skeptical. "You're not….worried?"

"About what?"

God, she doesn't think she can say it. But she tries: in as few words as possible. "He's a _boy_ ," and she hopes that gets the point across.

She's not sure, but she thinks her father actually _laughs._ "I'm not worried," he tells her. "Come down and have breakfast."

She follows her father down to the kitchen where Sakura is already eating at the table. "Hey, baby!" she greets. "You feel rested?"

Actually, she does. It seems Boruto's presence had been a help after all. Maybe her father knows more about her than she thinks he does. "Yeah, I do. Thanks for asking," she smiles, and she pictures her mother smiling brightly in return.

"Well, if that's the case….what do you think about a little search?"

The smile falters slightly. "I hate to break it to you Ma, but I'm probably not the best person to be asking to find something."

"Poor choice of my words on my part," she quickly brushes off, not wanting to be deterred. "But I meant more along the lines of a…job?"

"A job?" she echoes, feeling slightly worried. Surely she hasn't been that much of a burden since she came back from that mission. It's only been a few weeks.

"Well," her mother starts, voice muffled from a bite of pancakes. Manners aren't really her thing; Sarada has suspicion it's a habit she has gotten from being around Naruto all these years. "Now that you aren't an active ninja, you must be bored, right? All you do around the house is sleep."

Sarada doesn't have the heart to admit that sleeping is _fun_ for her, so she goes along with it. "Maybe a little. But what can I do?" All those ideas that Naruto gave her in the office flood her mind and none of them work.

"That's what the search is for! Sasuke, grab your phone."

"Don't you need the paper?" her father grunts, but she hears the phone slide across the table.

"Honey, the paper is _on_ your phone."

"…wait, what?"

Sarada stuff pancakes in her mouth to keep herself from laughing as she listens to her mother give her father yet another lesson in technology. Every day, he learns something else that his phone can do.

"Okay, now, if you download the app that says _Konoha Daily_ you won't have to use the internet search every time."

"Remind me what an app is."

Sarada laughs. "It's like a short-cut, Papa. I have one that reads aloud all my texts and emails. Shikadai put it in my phone last week."

"…You can do that?"

"For fuck's sake," Sakura curses, but she's laughing as well. " _Naurto_ even knows how to do this shit. Get it together, Sasuke."

There's a resounding _whack_ from Sakura hitting Sasuke upside the head after what sounds like him calling her mother a _"jackass"_ under his breath.

"Okay, let's see…" Sakura trails off, going through the Help Wanted section of the paper. "You know that coffee shop down the road? They need a barista!"

Sarada pictures a lot of broken coffee mugs and wrinkles her nose. "Nah."

"Yeah," Sakura concedes. "That would be rough. You know how picky people are with their coffee. What about the dango stand?"

"Same thing," Sasuke cuts in, stealing the words right out of her mouth. "Try something that's not food."

"Fine, fine," Sakura grumbles, growing quiet as she goes through the ads again. "Hey," she finally says, "What about the radio station?"

Despite the fact that Konoha has become very advanced in the past few years, the radio station is still a staple in entertainment and practicality—not everyone has cell phones, television and internet in the city, and when you go beyond it, there are still many small villages that only use radio.

"I get the whole auditory deal," Sarada agrees, "But I don't really know what I'd…do there."

"You could DJ? Pick out the music? Ooh!" Sakura's getting more excited by the second, "Maybe you could have a talk show! They still do that, right Sasuke?"

"Ah," he agrees, "I listen to them when I'm out on my patrols sometimes."

"See? Papa would listen!"

It sounds ideal: a small booth with equipment that doesn't move and nothing there to burn or maim her like in a ramen stand or something. She can learn where all the buttons are and how they work in a day or two and after that, no one will even know she can't see. "They're hiring, you said?"

"Mmhm. Doesn't say what position, you'll have to go down and ask. The ad was put up from a member of the Yamanaka clan, so maybe Ino can put in a good word for you."

"She doesn't need any help, she'll be fine," Sasuke refutes, and it makes Sarada smile.

After breakfast, the radio talk makes her mother antsy for some music and she turns on their small radio in the kitchen—the song is upbeat and happy, like something you'd play at a backyard picnic or small party. Sakura's heels click on the hardwoods as she hums, trying to clear the table and dance at the same time.

"I got it," Sasuke tells her. "You go get ready for work," and Sakura gives her thanks as she most likely dances out the kitchen and down to her bedroom.

The music blares as Sasuke and Sarada do the dishes: he washes, she dries. Despite herself, Sarada can't help but mouth the lyrics to the song playing and bob her head to the beat, maybe even tapping her foot and wiggling her hips as well.

"Hey!" Sakura's voice shoots down the hallway, growing louder as she runs back into the kitchen. "Have you seen my—Sasuke?"

Her mother starts _laughing_ and Sarada can't for the life of her understand why. "What?" Sarada begs. "What's going on?"

"Sasuke," Sakura wheezes, "Were you _dancing?"_

Sarada's jaw goes slack and she bumps elbows with her father. "Oh my god, you were dancing? Seriously? This whole time?"

He sounds absolutely smug when he gives her forehead a poke. "I guess your blind ass will never know."

She throws her head back and joins Sakura in the laughter.


	5. Chapter 5

Sarada takes her mother's advice and gets the job at the station.

To her surprise and utter delight, it's not a talk show, not a news report: they need someone to DJ for a few hours. The whole reason the position is open is because the hours are a wonderfully convenient midnight to 4am, which anyone with eyes would bemoan because of the lack of daylight. Luckily, it's nighttime for Sarada 24/7 and her sleep schedule is already _fucked,_ so this is pretty much the best fit ever. Talk a little between songs, play whatever she really wants, and it's done.

The KF91.2 tower is desolate when she comes in to work, save for a few scattered security and her co-worker. Her name is Kameyo and she is 79 years old with no sign of slowing down any time soon. The first time she meets her she asks why her name is salad and then says, "Speaking of which, I'm kind of hungry. I'm gonna order a pizza for delivery. You like anchovies?"

It only takes a few days for Kameyo to show her the ropes. The equipment is in the same spot and the lights for the phone even ding, which surprises Sarada. "You aren't the only one whose senses are going," Kameyo explains with a laugh before showing her which buttons to press.

A week goes by and Sarada really enjoys it—Kameyo usually loads up a playlist for 30 or 45 minutes before she dozes off, so all Sarada has to do it announce the song and push a button. But on their first Saturday near the middle of their shift, Kameyo loads something up that strays from her normal classical choices and Sarada's more typical contemporary taste.

"This station reaches about 70 km past the city limits, just far enough to reach that sad little village on the west outskirts." Kameyo explains, and Sarada is very familiar with it. There's a shitty inn that a lot of ninjas will stay overnight when there's no pressing matter to get back to the city. "They don't have any TV or internet or any other real technology over there—just this radio station. So," and Kameyo's grin gets devious as the previous jazz song comes to an end. "I like to fuck with them."

How they fuck with a specific village all the way in Konoha, Sarada isn't sure. "What—"

"And that was Symphony No. 40 in LMNOP minor by some dead guy none of you care about." Sarada's hand flies to her mouth to stifle her giggles as Kameyo continues. "Next, me and DJ Salad thought we'd mix it up, give you something new to listen to at…" she trails off. "…3:36 in the goddamn morning."

Sarada waits before there's a blast of bass followed by a disturbingly familiar voice.

 _"_ _Yo, yo yo, it's Killer B! Time to set my rhymes free!"_

"Oh my _God,"_ Sarada whispers and she has never thought she'd want to be deaf on top of blind, yet here she is. "He put out a _song?"_

Kameyo laughs. "A whole album, actually."

"He should be criminalized for this."

The old lady laughs harder and jostles her shoulders. "Now, now, wait for three more minutes and the real fun will begin."

Begrudgingly, Sarada sits through the rest of the song and tries not to stab her eardrums out with a pen. When it's over the phone rings, and Sarada thinks it's a hallucination. No one ever calls the station so late at night unless it's a drunken chuunin who thinks it's the 24 hour ramen stand trying to order carry out.

Kameyo is barely keeping her laughter in check. "It looks like we have a caller. You got a request, stranger?"

 _"_ _Yeah, I got a request. Burn that song and never play it again."_

Sarada instantly recognizes the voice. "Boruto?"

 _"_ _Sarada!?"_ he squawks. Yep, definitely Boruto. _"How could you do this to not only me, your beloved and favorite teammate, but to the ears of citizens everywhere?"_

Not really knowing how to respond, Sarada tilts her head Kameyo's way. "I think I'll go pick up our take out in the lobby." Traitor. "Have fun, kiddo."

Sarada covers the mic with her hand. "Kameyo," she whispers harshly, but no answer. _"_ Kameyo _!"_

 _"_ _They should consider using it in Interrogation because it could make even the sanest man break."_ Boruto continues, _"My eardrums were grated. Shikadai lost IQ points. Inojin no longer finds beauty in the world and has given up painting."_

 _"_ _That's not true,"_ It sounds like Inojin. _"I'd never give up painting no matter how awful Megane-chan's taste in music is."_

 _"_ _Stop being so dramatic."_ That's Shikadai. They must be on speaker phone.

 _"_ _Dramatic!?"_ Boruto shrieks. _"We are in some desolate village with no TV and no internet and we only get one radio station and while I'm not the biggest fan of Symphony 221 in X-Ray minor it sure as hell is better than the torture you just played."_

Kameyo was right. This is fun. "Rough mission?" Sarada asks, and maybe she shouldn't be having a conversation on the air, but she can't really be bothered to care.

 _"_ _Ho-ly-shit, you have no idea."_ Boruto sighed loudly. _"Dad gave us a four-man cell C rank out in the fields to do some labor. He must be pissed with me or something—"_

 _"_ _Yeah, thanks for that."_

 _"—_ _Shikadai. Shut up. Anyway, the patron was a tooooootal nightmare. Complete misogynist, I wish you were there to kick his teeth out. Mission was completely beneath us, all we did was bring in the pumpkins. Took all day, even with a good chunk of my shadow clones."_

Sarada's smile slips off her face. "Pumpkins?"

 _"_ _Yeah, they're gonna be bringing them into town for the harvest festival. Luckily, that's another poor ninjas job. By the way, I meant to ask: you wanna go with me?"_

"Um…probably not this year. Sorry."

 _"_ _What!? Come on, you love the festival."_

That's true—but this year is going to be different. Truthfully, Sarada wasn't crazy about the idea: and it had nothing to do with Boruto. The festival is bound to be crowded and with that many people it will probably mess up her sensing abilities and give her a massive headache. Besides, there isn't much to enjoy outside the lights, the games and the stupid _pumpkins_ so she's not too keen on going.

She doesn't want to address it on air, so she gives him a curt, "I'll think about it," and he drops it. "Now, do you guys have a _request_ or do I have to hang up on you?"

" _Ooh, Ooh_!" Boruto shouts, " _I pick—"_

 _"—_ _if you say Invisible Touch I will literally extend my arm across the room and choke you to death."_ Ah, so it seemed Mitsuki rounded out the four man cell.

Boruto swear and then says, " _What about_ —"

"— _and if you say No Reply At All, I will help Mistuki kill you_." That's Shikadai.

 _"_ _Oh, like your taste in music is any better? Mitsuki, you listen to emo band covers, Shikadai you won't listen to anything without a banjo going 100 miles an hour and Inojin listens to alien music!"_

 _"_ _It's called Electronic Pop."_ Inojin pipes in. " _And I'll have you know, it's a very impressive mix of several songs that—"_

 _"_ _I'm gonna lose my mind."_

Sarada chews her lip, trying to fight the laugh, but it bubbles over. "Well, since you guys can't decide, I guess I'll just finish the playlist."

 _"_ _Sarada."_

"So everyone, sit back and enjoy Killer B's debut album. We're gonna play the whoooooole thing."

 _"_ _SARADA."_

.

.

Kameyo returns with a large carton of noodles and they slurp at them while they laugh at the rest of Killer B's songs as well as imagining Boruto with a bald spot from inevitably pulling out his hair from pure agony. They're halfway through the discography when the phone beeps again.

When the song's done, Sarada takes over. "Before we continue, we've got a caller."

 _"_ _Sarada."_

Another familiar voice. "Hey, Sasuke." Sarada smiles, very happy to hear him for a reason she can't quite understand. "You're up late."

 _"_ _Can't sleep. I'll give you 20 dollars when you get home if you shut that off."_

She bursts out laughing. "Yeah? What should we play?"

He tells her and Kameyo and Sarada can't stop laughing when _Believe_ starts playing.

.

.

Sarada always takes the slow way home. Now that Konoha is likely the largest city in the world, it never really sleeps—but it does get quieter. She can walk without fear of bumping into people, the crisp autumn air is refreshing and she gets time to just _think._ A few times she'll stop at a food stand and chat up a the ramen stand and a few visiting ninjas who are also up late due to work, but a lot of the times she'll drag her cane lazily at her side and just….walk. It's nice.

She gets home at 6 and thinks Sasuke must have gone to bed eventually, but he's awake and drinking coffee at the table. "Good Morning, Sarada."

"Hey," she whispers. "Sorry I was out so late. I took a walk."

"I don't mind." He slurps at his coffee. "Weather was nice, yeah?"

"It was." She agrees, joining him at the table and pouring herself a cup of coffee. "Maybe you can come with me next time."

Sasuke is staring at her, she can feel it. "Coffee will keep you awake."

She knows this. The cup is hot as she wraps her palm around the mug, her other hand tracing the rim methodically. She's tired, this is nothing new, but the emotions that accompany it are something she hasn't felt in a long time—not since her accident.

"I don't want to sleep."

"Well, in that case," he drawls. "I could go for a walk in a few minutes. If you'd like to come."

She blows on the top of the mug and takes a sip, smiling when the warmth radiates through her chest.

"Sounds good."

.

.

A/N

1) It felt weird to put our music in this world so I cheated a bit and just named the songs instead of the artists since it could technically be a different song but. Whatever. Boruto wanted to listen to Genesis, Shikadai was Mumford and Sons and for Mitsuki I was thinking of the Seether cover of Careless Whispers. And Sasuke loves Cher. Don't ask.

2) I know nothing about radio stations I did my best please don't shoot me and on that note:

3) YES I know that Naruto can do that eye thingy and give her a new one but this is a FANFIC so just...please for the sake of me writing this story ignore it and stop telling me because I promise you, I know, lmao.


	6. Chapter 6

Sarada can picture his tongue hanging out between his teeth, eyes bright and brow creased slightly as the thin hairs of the brush sweep across her eyelids. He murmurs the colors of the eyeshadow he's using and warns her when he's about to tweeze her eyebrows. Inojin is always gentle—it's the nature of his artist's hand—but she feels like he's taking extra caution this time around. His fingers feel like a feather's touch when he tilts her chin left and right to add the last of her make up: gold accent flowers by the corners of her eyes.

"There. That's as pretty as you'll look, I'm afraid," he announces. "Not even my mother's finest concealer could cover the bags under your eyes."

In a self-conscious gesture, Sarada brings her hand up to press underneath her eyes; Inojin swats her hand away and mumbles something about ruining his art. "Sorry. I didn't sleep so much last night." She knows how that sounds, so she adds, "I was too excited about the festival."

Inojin knows she's lying; anyone, ninja or not could. "Of course. Now," she feels him grab at her hair, the long strands she's spent the last two years growing out getting caught and knotted in his fingers. "What shall I do about the rat's nest you call hair?"

"Don't worry about it," she tells him, swatting his hands away. "I'll just braid it or something."

"If it's a braid you want," and he grabs her hair again. "Allow me. My mother has forced me to braid hers many times in attempts to bond with me."

Sarada thinks of the many hours he's probably spent doing such; Ino's hair is probably the longest in the village. "Sounds like your mother really wanted a daughter."

"Eh," Inojin most likely shrugs. "I think she would have still made me her servant regardless," and Sarada laughs. A few minutes later he was done and she felt the sensation of him tucking something behind her ear. "I snagged one of your favorites from my mom's shop before I came over." He tweaks her nose and adds, "Smells nice."

She perks up. "A rose?"

"Mmhm."

"A _yellow_ rose?"

"….Mhmm."

She laughs at his hesitation. "Liar."

"How would you know, four-eyes?"

She smirks and reaches her hand up, pinching her fingers together. She hears Inojin sigh, but he leans down and grabs her fingers so she can pinch his nose. "I'll ask Boruto."

"Fine by me," he says, his nose still between her fingers, making his voice sound funny; he waits for her to let go. "We should probably head out—I'd hate to be late picking up our dates."

Sarada nods and smooths out the dress Inojin had picked out from her closet. She recognizes it as her favorite green dress with the embroidery that Mitsuki says looks like a doily. Inojin puts her cane in her hand and guides her out of the house with his hand on the small of her back.

"Bye, baby!" Sakura calls from the living room, buried underneath a dozen medical scrolls. "Sasuke and I might see you there a little later. Have fun!"

The walk to Boruto's house is a bit of a long one, especially since they live on the other side of the city, and she's more than relieved when Inojin knocks on the door; there's a small squeal from the other side and Sarada can only guess it's Himawari.

"Hello, you two!" Hinata greets, opening the door and ushering the two of them inside. "Boruto's upstairs fixing his hair."

"Mom!" Sarada hears from upstairs. "Don't make me sound like a girl!" His mother just giggles in response before there's a slam of a bedroom door and the distinct noise of feet running down the staircase. "Sorry, it just wouldn't lay right."

Sarada shrugs. "It's not like I'm going to care one way or another."

"Yeah?" She can almost feel his grin. "Well, I have to look the part if I'm going to be your date. You look _extra_ pretty tonight, Sarada-chan. I see you've ditched the visors and glasses for the night. I like it."

She rolls her eyes, but she feels herself blush anyway.

"It's true. You almost look as pretty as my date," Inojin chimes in. "Speaking of which," Sarada hears the rustling of the flowers he had been holding the whole way over. "These are for you, Himawari."

"Sunflowers!" She gasps. "Like my name."

"Indeed. And almost as lovely as you."

"Oooooh," Boruto coos. "Inojin's been gettin' some smooth talk lessons. Speaking of flowers," Sarada feels him flick her ear. "I like the one in your hair."

She remembers what Inojin said earlier. "Thank you. It's a yellow rose, my favorite."

"Yellow?" Boruto questions. "It's peach."

Sarada grins and elbows Inojin in the chest. "See? Liar!"

He sighs. "I thought Boruto wouldn't know the difference between yellow and peach."

Boruto snorts. "What am I, an idiot?" Sarada opens her mouth in retort but her teammate slaps his hand over it before she can get a word in. "You know what? Don't answer that. Let's just go to the festival—ew! Don't lick my hand!"

.

.

The festival has really stepped up its game in the last few years, in more ways than one. Literally, the festival has brought more carnival games for all ages and beyond that, the number of streets has increased for art attractions, markets, and food stands that are set up for the special occasion. The smells used to excite Sarada but with her smell heightened these days it makes her a little overwhelmed; not that she's going to admit it.

Boruto manages to distract her with a few games: there's a shuriken tossing contest, one that she manages to at least beat Boruto at (It's not like she's forgotten how to toss the damn thing. Shikadai will probably smirk for days) but comes up short when they bob for apples. It's no surprise though—Boruto sure has a big damn mouth.

"So, what'll it be now?" Boruto asks as the two of them stroll down one of the quieter streets. She's sure he saw her rubbing at her temples in pain and he had suggested the small break from the hustle and bustle. "Music? Dancing?"

"Dancing?" Sarada repeats. "Like hell you can _dance."_

"I can _try."_

She huffs out a laugh and bumps his shoulder with hers. "No one wants to see that. Not even the blind girl," she cracks, but she finds she's the only one laughing. "What?"

"Nothing. I mean. Well," Boruto sighs and kicks at the dirt in the road before he grabs Sarada's hand and laces their fingers as they continue walking. "I'm just confused. I don't really know how to act around you anymore." He admits.

She stops walking and grips his hand tighter. "What are you talking about?" She almost laughs, albeit a little nervously.

Boruto is quiet for a while longer as he swings their hands back and forth. "Do you remember when I was six and I wanted to grow up and be one of my dad's toad summons?"

Oh, she remembers; the thought has her grinning. "You locked yourself in your room for three days when your mom told you it's impossible to change species."

"Well, yeah!" he cries in defense. "My mother squashed my dream. I had to let it go and get a new one. It was hard."

Ah. She knows where this is going.

"The other day," he continues, "After I handed in a report for my last mission, someone caught me in the hallway and asked, 'Now that Sarada's out of the running, you got any big dreams about being Hokage?' Like you had just given up! Like you'd changed your mind! Like nothing bad had happened to you!"

"Boruto—"

"It's not _fair!"_ He drops her hand in frustration and she can sense him pacing back and forth in front of her, hands tugging at his hair. "This wasn't supposed to happen to _you!_ This—!"

"Bo!"

He stops when she manages to lunge forward and grab his shoulder. Her hand snakes down his arm to find his hand and she squeezes it so tight it hurts a little. "It's okay."

"No, it's not. I was supposed to protect you," He whispers hoarsely. "I promised I would protect you and I failed."

She wants to tell him he isn't to blame, that he shouldn't feel guilty, but she knows a useless battle when she comes across one. Her throat burns with the feeling of oncoming tears. "I was supposed to protect myself. It's not your fault."

"We're a team. We look out for each other."

"We still do."

"You were supposed to be Hokage."

That one's harder to lay to rest. "Yeah," she agrees softly. "But now someone else has to do it." In attempts to lighten the situation she squeezes his hand again and offers a smile. "Who knows? Maybe Himawari will do it."

It seems to do the trick. "Oh, please no," he begs to anyone who might listen. " _Please._ The village couldn't handle it. _I_ couldn't handle it. I'd die a worrywart."

Sarada laughs. "Well it's a good thing Naruto ojichan isn't going to die anytime soon," she giggles. "I'm pretty sure he's going to live forever."

"Maybe," Boruto says, and although he sounds resigned Sarada doesn't need eyes to know he's smiling. Boruto speaks much more kindly of his father these past couple of years and it's nice to know that get along now. "But the Hokage job isn't what it used to be. It's a lot more stressful. Did you know that he's already got grey hairs?"

"He does _not!"_ she shouts between peals of laughter.

"Uh-huh, does too!"

"I've been blind a month, not a decade!"

"He'll be looking like Kakashi-sensei in no time. Maybe you've really dodged a kunai, Sarada."

Her heart sinks a little, but she knows that Boruto's just trying to cheer her up. "Maybe," she mumbles, but she cannot hide the disappointment in her voice. This night is going to go to shit if they don't get back to the music, people and games so she starts steering him back toward the center of the festival. "Come on, let's have some fun. I'm sure there's plenty more carnival games I can still beat you at despite the handicap."

She tugs on his hand but he doesn't go with her. "Sarada…" he doesn't finish.

"Boruto," she says his name with as much serenity and peace as she can manage despite the twisting feeling in her gut and the slight race of her heart. Why she's nervous, she's not entirely sure. "I'm fine." It's a half true. She's sure she _will_ be fine, all she has to do is find their friends and enough distractions to last her the rest of the night. It can't be hard.

"Okay," he sighs, and he lets her lead him back toward the crowds.

.

.

She's believes she'll be fine. She really does.

Then they pass the pumpkin carving station.

The scrapes and stabs of the knives are as loud as fireworks. Sarada tries to focus on the sounds of the kids laughing but it sounds more like _cackles,_ and the squish of the pumpkin seeds between their fingers drains the color out of her face and she slaps a hand over her mouth, suddenly afraid she's about to hurl in the middle of the street.

 _I'll just scoop 'em out with this, nothin' to it._

Her eyes—what's left of them—burn. She bites her tongue so hard it bleeds.

"Sarada?"

 _Like carving a pumpkin._

The air starts to feel thin and she takes quick, shallow breaths, unable to catch her breath. It's like she's _drowning._ There's someone shaking her shoulder but she shoves them off, trying to walk away from it all. She bumps into someone and spins, trying to clear a path with her cane but she bumps into someone else.

"I got you, Sarada, come on."

It's her father.

"Sas—" she hiccups in her hyperventilation. "Sasuke?" Where did he come from?

"Come on," he repeats soothingly, and she feels a long coat being wrapped around her before he leads her away from all the noise. "Follow the sound of my voice."

"It's annoying," she quips, in an attempt to defuse the situation, but it sounds like some strangled gasp.

"All the easier to follow then, right? Hold on, I'm going to carry us someplace."

She doesn't even have time to process what he's said before the cool wind is snipping at her face and after a few nauseating moments she realizes that they are finally _finally_ away from the festival.

Sarada rubs her boot into the dirt before she falls to her knees, legs weak and energy totally spent. It's pathetic, she thinks, as her eyes well with tears. Nothing even _happened,_ she just freaked out in an embarrassing display in front of Konoha's citizens, in front of her friends, in front of _Boruto…_

Sasuke gives a small grunt, mumbling about old knees as he crouches on the ground beside her. "You're hyperventilating. You'll feel a lot better if you take some deep breaths. Concentrate on your breathing."

"I'm sorry," she hiccups.

"You've got nothing to apologize for. I'm just trying to help you feel better. Deep breaths."

She takes a few moments to gather her bearings but it doesn't work; her breathing is still erratic and she still feels like she's drowning and her pulse is _raging_ in her head. "I can't!" she gasps quietly, clutching at the sides of her head. "I—I can't _breathe."_

"You can. Give yourself a moment."

It's _hard._ Not being able to see is one thing but the added pressure of not being able to breathe isn't letting her escape her hysterics. "Papa…." And she sounds all too much like the little girl she thought she left behind ages ago.

But her father doesn't seem to mind; he wraps his arm around her and pulls her close so she's almost in his lap. "I'm listening. I'm right here."

She breaks.

"I can't stop seeing it _,"_ she sobs, letting whatever crying she was trying to repress break free. "It's not fair! Every time I fall asleep I see his face….his creepy smile, his crooked teeth, all of it! It won't go away!"

Sasuke's response is the slight brush of his knuckles up and down her arm.

"Like carving a pumpkin," she whispered hoarsely just as her nose started to run. "He carved my eyes out like a pumpkin! Like I was some goddamn Jack O Lantern!" Her dad lets her press her face into his chest and sob.

They sit there for some time before Sasuke uses his sleeve to wipe her nose. "I'm sorry," he whispers, "I can't even begin to understand. But I'm glad you told me about it regardless."

For Sarada, she can relate in that aspect—she can't begin to understand her father, the man that has been rumored to be emotionless and cold-hearted by ninja and citizens alike. However, he is none of those things to her. Reserved and quiet? Sure. But he is kind.

"I feel silly," she admits. And boy, does she feel silly—in more ways than one. "That's why I didn't want to come to the festival. Something as simple as a pumpkin freaks me out."

"Don't worry," Sasuke disagrees, "Naruto cries when he sees vegetables too."

His joke comes so far out of left field it startles her and she laughs. "That's a crude comparison," she tells him as she wipes her eyes.

"I know," he looks down at her with a soft expression. "But it got you to smile."

Her smile widens and she throws herself into him with a hug.

"It doesn't…really go away," Sasuke tells her. There are a dozen stories underneath his words. Sarada knows what happened to the Uchiha clan, with Itachi, with Orochimaru; but she will never know just what he had to go through. "But it gets easier."

She feels hopeful. "I hope so."

"It will. It might be days, might be years," he shrugs. "It just takes time, however long that may be. But Sarada?"

She tilts her head just as he presses his two fingers against her forehead.

"Remember that your mother and I love you. We and all your friends are here to help. You come talk to either of us whenever you need, okay?"

It's a nice gesture, but she can't help thinking, "Cheap talk for someone who never answers their phone."

Sasuke sighs and pulls her braid. "Brat."

She laughs. "No, but seriously, your phone buzzed like five times and you didn't even notice."

"I noticed."

"Uh-huh."

Sasuke grumbles something that sounds like "smartass" while he digs for his phone in his pocket. "Hey," Sarada mumbles after she's dwelled on his words for a moment, "Where is Ma anyway? She said she was going to be with you."

She can practically _hear_ him grimacing. "Annual drinking contest with Naruto. She's going for her 12th consecutive win."

With a sly grin she adds, "Ma cheats. She metabolizes it."

"Only with Tsunade. Sakura doesn't have to cheat to beat Naruto."

Sarada uses her cane to get to her feet with her father standing back up beside her. "Why don't you join in on the fun?"

"Because I _hate_ them." He ignores her laughs and crouches in front of her. "Hop on. I'll carry you back."

"You sure you can do it?" Sarada asks slowly, but hops on his back regardless.

"You aren't that heavy."

She rests her head on his shoulder. "I meant the fact that you only have one arm."

Said one arm slips from underneath her leg and she's left dangling on his back, her arms looped around his neck. "No, no, no, I'm kidding! I'm kidding! Don't drop me."

He lets her suffer a few more moments before he hoists her higher up and walks them back to the festival.

.

.

The first person they meet when they get back is Shikamaru. " _There_ you are. I've been looking for you. I called you twice."

She pinches Sasuke's ear. "Told you."

Shikamaru continues, "Would you _please_ go pick up your wife from the bar? She threw Naruto into a wall and destroyed it again."

Sarada blinks. "Again?"

Sasuke, however, seems accustomed to the idea. "Goddamn it," he cursed. "Yeah, okay. I'll go get her. Thanks."

The Hokage's advisor lights a cigarette—Sarada can hear the flicker of a lighter followed by the stench of tobacco before he walks away and Sasuke and her continue down the street. "How many times has Ma thrown Naruto ojichan into a wall?"

"A number that hasn't been discovered yet."

She giggles, burying her face into his shoulder. Then. "Wait."

"What?"

"You and Ma are _married?"_

"…Sarada."

"I mean it's just…okay, I'm kidding! It was…a joke? Don't drop me! I'm sorry!"

.

.

note: hi! I did finally watch the boruto movie (sasuke and naruto were MARRIED) and now I can see that they weren't as technologically advanced as I thought they were. I thought it was more present day technology, but it's more late 80s early 90s which is why the technology here with the smart phones are too advanced, as someone pointed out. sorry! but oh well lol. one more chapter and then I'm DONE and I don't have to look at this fic again lol.


End file.
